Parva Victoriis (Little Victories)
by MizJoely
Summary: Roman Empire Sherlolly AU with light bondage and Slave!Sherlock and unapologetic sprinkling of Latin phrases throughout, including reimagined Roman names for most of the characters. A gift for Nocturnias, for reasons. Loely cover art by Sempaiko.
1. Servus Ipsum: Slave Market

_A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know. I have a million unfinished WIPs, which I DO plan to finish. This one is a gift for the lovely and talented Nocturnias, who took my idle commentary on how I wanted to write a Roman era Sherlolly story and turned it on its head. How so? Let's just say that the character who ended up the slave was originally meant to be the owner. Speaking of owners, I own nothing but the plot and the names and the words the named characters speak. This will be a definite M in later chapters and will included light BDSM, my first foray into such._

**Cast of Characters:**

**John Watson – Junius Hadrian Veturius **

A former army doctor whose life was once saved by a young Brittonic scholar/soldier named Sherlock

**Mary Watson – Mariana Maxia Veturius **

Wife to Junius, mother of his (as yet) unborn child

**Molly Hooper – Mariana Tullia Hortensius**

Midwife and reluctant guardian to her troublesome younger brother and in search of a Tutor who can match and manage the boy's runaway intellect

**Molly's sisters – Flavia Lucretia and Juliana Justinia**

Meddlesome and annoying and largely off-camera

**Molly's troublesome younger brother – Marcus Aegyptius Hortensius**

Restless, intelligent and bored eight-year-old sorely in need of some guidance

_(You might recognize him as Archie from "The Sign of Three")_

**Molly's (deceased) parents – Flavia Tullia Hortensius and Apollonius Gaius Hortensius**

Present in spirit throughout the tale

**Greg Lestrade – Gaius Flavius Lartius **

Head of the local Vigiles who has brought a certain troublesome younger brother back home after getting into mischief on more than one occasion

**Phillip Anderson – Phillipus Didius Annius **

Local barber wooing Mariana Tullia's personal maid

**Sally Donovan – Salonina Theodora Dossenius**

Personal maid to Mariana Tullia, currently being wooed by a local barber

**Martha Hudson – Marcia Faustina Hosidius **

Head servant in the Hortensius household

**Irene Adler – Eirene Sylvia Aedinius **

Mariana Tullia's good friend, owner of a local brothel and invaluable dispenser of advice regarding…

**Sherlock Holmes – Sherlock **

Briton, Roman slave, Mariana Tullia's eventual lover

_Note: I will post an abbreviated version of this list at the head of every chapter to remind readers of the character's names. And if you think I have them straight in my own head, you are sadly mistaken, LOL!_

**Part 1 – Servus Ipsum (Slave Market)**

Mariana Tullia Hortensius had never bought a slave before, that duty having always fallen to her parents while they still lived. However, they had both been taken by plague the year before, and as the eldest child left at home, household duties such as this now fell to her.

Her younger brother had driven off yet another tutor, and both her married elder sisters had advised her to simply purchase one instead; that way, no matter what abuse or tricks Marcus Aegyptus attempted, the slave would have no choice but to endure, no recourse but to appeal to Mariana. And if he stormed off, as the last one had (an overly emotional Greek), then Mariana could simply have the head of the household guard drag him back, whip him, and send him once more into their brother's quarters to try and din some sort of education into the little heathen.

It wasn't Mariana's first choice; she'd always felt that ownership of another human being must somehow be wrong, no matter how many priests in how many temples attempted to reassure her that yes, the Gods truly did approve of such things. The slaves in the Hortensius household had always been treated more like family than possessions, with beatings rarely having been meted out. That, in fact, was what her sisters actually recommended for Marcus; a good beating, which neither of their parents had ever approved for their precious only son, might do a great deal of good in turning him from a spoiled brat into an upstanding Roman citizen.

Mariana couldn't disagree with Flavia and Juliana; Marcus Aegyptus really was quite horrid sometimes. But other times he was the sweetest, kindest child and her heart simply melted. She suspected he was simply bored; he was certainly intelligent enough, possibly the most intelligent one in the family. Definitely more intelligent than his peers and playmates.

As an added incentive – one which she wished to avoid at all costs – if Marcus wasn't brought to heel and quickly, her sisters both threatened to revoke her guardianship and ship him off to their cousins in Mantua. It wasn't the loss of status she feared, or the fact that her access to the family coffers would be limited; she had her own money, set aside for her by her parents and money she'd earned on her own as a midwife. Rather, it was her concerns for her brother that caused her anxiety to rise, knowing full well their cousins rather brutal ideas of the proper way to raise a child.

All of which had driven her to find the best possible tutor and scribe she could. She herself could read and write both Latin and Greek, of course, as well as speak and make herself understood in a smattering of barbaric languages such as Gallic and Germanic, among others. Her younger brother surpassed her in that as well as mathematics, although she was more accomplished in the other sciences that her father had allowed her study, even taking her on as an unofficial assistant in his medical practice when she'd shown an aptitude. Officially she was merely a midwife, having come into that trade when her eldest sister unexpectedly went into labor while on a family holiday in the countryside. Molly had successfully delivered her nephew and begged her father for formal training, and he and her mother had given their blessings.

After their passing, his actual partner, a former army doctor named Junius Hadrian Veturius, had allowed Mariana to continue her practice of assisting, at the counsel of his wife, who was also named Mariana, a fact which both women had always found amusing. Junius had taken the unusual step of shortening his wife's name to Mary when both women were in the room at the same time, in order to alleviate confusion, although Mariana had told him it was perfectly fine to refer to her by her (admittedly hated) middle name, as the older man had known her since she was Marcus' age!

Junius merely smiled and admitted that he enjoyed calling his wife "my Mary" and Mariana never mentioned it again.

He was going to accompany her today; Mariana Maxia was home, busily preparing for the arrival of her and Junius' first child, come late in life and, the Gods willing and with Mariana's assistance as midwife, due to greet the world within a month's time.

She mused on the odd – yet satisfying – life she'd led after her sisters had dutifully found themselves husbands and begun producing children. The eldest, Julia Justinia, had two girls and two boys, all of which had successfully survived infancy (the youngest, Lucius, thanks to Mariana's intervention in his birth, of course). Flavia Lucretia hadn't been so fortunate at first, having lost two infants before birth and one after only a month, but eventually the Gods had favored her with a healthy son, now nearly four, and a year later a sister who followed him everywhere and adored him.

With their own younger brother as an example, she knew neither of her sisters – nor their husbands, one a junior Senator and the other a successful merchant – would make the mistake their own parents had made. On the other hand, Mariana was worried that they bent too far in the other direction, being far stricter with their offspring than she thought necessary. Still, what did she know? Here she was, twenty-one and still unmarried, a midwife and occasional dissectionist when one of Junius' patients died in such as manner as to require additional inquiry, raising her younger brother and running her parents former household – and now, off to purchase a slave for the very first time.

Junius had kindly offered to take on the duty, but she had only accepted his assistance in the matter. If she was to continue to run what was officially her brother's household until he came of age and married, then she needed to learn all aspects, even those she found personally distasteful.

Junius found her attitude toward slavery odd, but her father had shaped her views and he was kind enough not to comment on them. And she was grateful for his assistance; she had no experience in such things and there were many who wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of her in such a situation. Just because she could tell when the butcher was trying to sell her an inferior cut of meat didn't mean she could do the same when it came to human flesh!

Ugh. She truly did wish there was some way a civilized society could function without slaves, but Rome had endured with such a system running smoothly for centuries and she supposed it always would. She sighed and made her way to the auctioneer's postings, in order to see what her options were before speaking with one of the slave masters. Junius was temporarily separated from her, speaking to a former army-mate he'd met. Mariana had assured him she would be fine, that she wouldn't even think of making a purchase without him, and even left her money in his care to further reassure him.

She'd left him happily exchanging remembrances with his comrade and boasting of his beautiful wife and their soon-to-be-born child, which had brought a warm, if somewhat envious, smile to Mariana's face. She hadn't entirely given up on finding someone to love, which was the only way she'd resolved to wed; her sisters had already gone the duty route and although they were happy enough, she knew that neither of them truly loved their husbands the way their own parents had loved one another.

An hour later Mariana was willing to admit to herself that she'd managed somehow to lose herself. None of the slaves being offered at the moment met her needs; there were no educated men young enough to keep up with her energetic younger brother, only men suitable for bodyguards or house servants. It was discouraging, to say the least, but as she dolefully looked over the day's offerings, she overheard one of the employees mention to another that the 'latest arrivals' were being prepped, and her ears perked up. She'd then unobtrusively watched to see where the speaker went, and when no one was looking, followed after him.

Of course she'd promptly lost both him and her own way and was now in the areas where the general public wasn't usually allowed. Especially not an unescorted unmarried woman! She'd heard tales whispered amongst her friends of young women going missing, sold into slavery for the perverted pleasures of dissipated members of the nobility, but had discounted them as nothing but salacious gossip. Now, however, as she glanced uneasily around her insalubrious surroundings, she couldn't help but wonder if those tales might have had a grain of truth in them.

Only the knowledge that Junius would tear this place apart looking for her if she truly went missing kept her from falling prey to her own vivid imaginings. All she had to do was find her way back the way she'd come, then actually do the sensible thing and ask someone about the new arrivals. Which was exactly what she should have done in the first place.

Nodding firmly to herself, she drew her filmy white stole across her shoulders and headed back the way she'd just come.

Then she turned a corner, and saw him.

**oOo**

He was thin, underfed and filthy. His dark hair hung in tangled curls that were in desperate need of barbering, as was the scruffy beard on his face. However his eyes were the most unusual and arresting Mariana had ever seen, and she couldn't seem to bring her own gaze away from them. They were the blue-green of the ocean with flecks of amber, tilted in a cat-like manner and brimming with a fierce intelligence and an overabundance of fury and contempt. He spat out something in Brittonic that Mariana could only partially translate, none of which sounded particularly complimentary to the guard who was hauling him along by the chain attached to his manacles.

Without meaning to do any such thing, Mariana suddenly found herself in front of the guard, who stopped short with a bitten-off curse. "Forgive me, my lady," he said in a reasonable attempt at courtesy. "I didn't see you there. Are you lost? Do you require assistance of some kind in finding your way to the public section of the market?"

That last was a thinly veiled grumble of discontent; those who ran the slave markets had no interest in potential customers taking a peek behind the scenes, as it were. Mariana knew this, and yet she'd allowed her curiosity to bring her here anyway. That, and something about the slave who was clearly on his way to be cleaned up and made presentable for potential buyers – or to be punished since it was obvious he was entirely uncooperative in spite of the fact that he could do nothing about his situation.

"How much?" She hadn't intended to ask the question, but it erupted from her mouth as if it had been waiting to be asked since the moment she laid eyes on the Briton. He and the guard both gaped at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head, but before either could say another word, a fourth voice was heard.

"By the Gods, it can't be! Sherlock? Is that truly you?"

It was Mariana's turn to gape with the guard at Junius as he appeared by her side. He was staring at the unkempt slave with an expression of a man seeing a ghost...or a long-lost brother. The slave – Sherlock? What a barbaric name, indeed! – was staring back, but the sullenness had vanished and a tentative smile now graced his features, revealing a set of straight, white teeth which Mariana was frankly surprised to see.

The smile transformed the man's face; already intriguing it became nearly beautiful and Mariana could feel her heart increasing as her body responded on a primal, basic level. She'd rarely felt such an attraction to another man – only once, as it happened, which had turned out to be nothing but a disaster as the object of her affection had not returned her feelings in the slightest. Yes, he'd wanted to marry her, but only because of her family's money and relatively high status. As soon as Mariana overheard him telling one of his cronies that he'd force her to give up her work both as a midwife and assisting Junius, she'd given him the boot.

As soon as her scattered wits gathered themselves again, Mariana turned to Junius with a gasp. "Sherlock? This is Sherlock, the one you told me about?"

The young Briton who'd once saved Junius' life, in an ambush outside Londinium near the end of Junius' term of service in the Roman army. Junius had nearly been killed, but his life had been saved by a young scholar who had prevented Junius from being bashed over the head with a rock due entirely to the fact that he'd recognized the centurion as a physician and felt that such learning shouldn't go to waste. He'd lingered long enough to ensure Junius' continued safety, introduced himself by his odd name, made some stunning inferences about Junius and his fellow soldiers – all of them true – and then vanished as Roman reinforcements rapidly approached the small group.

Junius had seen him again after that from time to time; Mariana recalled him telling her about those encounters with a wry grin and an expression of bemused affection on his face. "He even took it upon himself to advise me as to the best way to manage gangrene in Londinium's damp climate, can you believe it?" And then, of course (after she'd pointedly asked), he'd been forced to admit that the young man's advice had been of value, much as it pained him to do so. After all, Junius had been trained and educated in Rome, center of the known world, and Sherlock was a mere barbarian. A well-read barbarian, but a barbarian nonetheless.

A barbarian who now stood before them in chains, chattel to be bought and sold.

And Mariana Tullia Hortensius was determined to be the one to buy him.

**oOo**

It was a shock, seeing a face he'd never thought to see again in his lifetime. Thanks to the young man standing before him, Junius had lived to return to Rome, injured, limping, but alive. And here he was again, that same young man, chained, filthy, half-starved…and, if the Gods were willing, exactly the answer to Mariana's predicament.

"Junius Hadrian Veturius," Sherlock said, showing that he, too, recognized the man standing before him – and speaking in flawless Latin. "Physician no longer for the Roman army but in private practice and safely returned to Rome, which is good to see considering how much trouble I went through to save your life." Junius grimaced at the not-so-subtle reminder that he owed this man a debt…and was currently in a unique position to repay it. Or would be if he actually had money of his own with which to purchase the young man. If he could, he would buy Sherlock and free him, but with a new baby coming his finances were going to be stretched thin enough. Besides, he'd long ago recognized that his marriage was much more of an equal partnership than typical Roman marriages, and if he did something like this without speaking to his wife first – no matter how confident he was that she would agree with him – he would be letting his own Mariana down.

One look at Mariana's enrapt face, however, told him that his dilemma could easily be solved. "He's well educated," Junius said, ignoring Sherlock's shocked expression. He would explain things to the lad later, after this transaction had been finalized. Mariana would be an excellent mistress; he would want for nothing and be allowed to share his knowledge with a young man who would benefit from leaning from someone outside the Roman Empire. Someone who would be critical, yes, but Junius firmly believed that blindly loving your homeland was almost as damaging as carrying hatred for it in your heart. "You couldn't find a better tutor for your brother if you scoured the known world."

Sherlock was clearly biting back the desire to snap out an insult, to deduce something devastating, but Junius silenced him with a stern glance. The guard, sensing a buyer who would be anxious to conclude the transaction as rapidly as possible, turned and gave a shrill whistle as another man hurried by, with the hunched shoulders and harried expression of a civil servant. "Villius!" the guard shouted. "Fetch Aelius Augustus!" The other man nodded and scurried off, back the way he'd come, clutching the armful of scrolls he carried close to his chest.

The guard turned to Mariana with an oily smile pasted to his pock-marked face. "My lady, would you care to wait inside while preparations are made? Your man here," he nodded respectfully to Junius, "can stay to make sure the merchandise isn't mishandled in the interim. I'm sure you'll want him to check him over as well, although I can assure you he is disease free and healthy as an ox. Well educated, too, as your man already noted…"

"No, I think I'll wait here, thank you," Mariana replied with a sweet smile that failed to disguise the glint of steel in her eyes. Junius recognized that expression, and bit back a small grin at the sight of it; Mariana Tullia might seem like a typical, soft-spoken young woman, but she had a spine of pure iron and the stomach to match. If the auctioneer thought he was going to cheat her by so much as a sestare, he was in for a rude awakening.

The deal was concluded in record time; as predicted, Mariana didn't allow the sellers to run roughshod over her, just because they could see how much she wanted to buy their merchandise. The only time Sherlock was allowed out of their presence was when he was taken to the baths and barber, and even then she insisted that Junius accompany him.

The moment the two of them were away from her, Junius attempted to explain why he hadn't paid the purchase price himself, but the younger man simply glared at him before ignoring his presence as if the doctor wasn't even there. Junius sighed quietly, resigned to being on the receiving end of Sherlock's venom when he was no longer able to hold it inside – most likely after the purchase had been concluded and the three of them were on their way to the Hortensius household. Technically, of course, he was under no obligation to listen to any such words…but Sherlock was correct. Junius owed him a debt, and his inability to properly discharge that debt was already weighing heavily on his conscience.

He set aside such heavy thoughts as soon as they returned to Mariana's side, opting instead to focus on his amusement at the sight of his young friend's expression at the sight of a clean, barbered and neatly-clad Sherlock. The transformation, he had to admit, was notable; standing before them now was the same young man he recalled from his time in Brittania, although still with the unwelcome addition of manacles on his wrists. At least the wrists themselves had been bandaged, at Junius' insistence. All the other physical outrages – the bruises and small sores that were inevitable in Sherlock's present unhappy circumstances – would undoubtedly be looked at and taken care of by Mariana once she had him under her family's roof.

He felt a stirring of uneasiness at the rapt expression her face took whenever she allowed her gaze to fall on Sherlock, especially when she thought he wasn't seeing it. Yes, Junius himself had undoubtedly primed her interest by telling her stories of the brilliant young man who'd saved his life in Brittania, but her interest in him smacked as much of physical attraction as anything else. But was that necessarily a bad thing? As a medical man, of course, he understood the necessity of both men and women to enjoy regular sexual stimulation for their health, and couldn't help wondering if Sherlock might be as good for Mariana as she could be for him; after all, she'd gone more than twenty years unwed, and even her annoying elder sisters couldn't fault her if she finally took a lover!

Only time would tell if such a situation played out, of course. The Hortensius servants and slaves were already treated better than some people treated their own family, and at the very least, if Sherlock showed himself a faithful and loyal tutor – after he'd resigned himself to his fate, of course – then he would be given those same considerations. If anything developed beyond that…well, it wasn't up to Junius to worry about it. Although it was very likely that Venus and Apollo would both be hearing from him in his prayers that night!

The sale concluded, the keys to Sherlock's manacles were ceremoniously handed over to Mariana. She eyed the heavy iron chains, took in Sherlock's tight-lipped expression, and handed the keys in turn to Junius. "If you don't mind," she murmured, unembarrassed by her admission of feminine weakness.

"My pleasure," he replied with utmost sincerity, then turned to Sherlock and released him from his bonds.

In doing so, he made certain to catch the younger man's eyes, knowing his own expression was a clear warning: try to run, try to do anything at all except come along with the two of us, and you'll regret it.

Annoyance flashed in the blue-green orbs that met his, but ultimately Sherlock lowered his head in a sullen gesture of defeat. _For now,_ the sullen set of his shoulders seemed to say, and Junius accepted that tacit admission of future defiance with a resigned sigh.

Mariana Tullia Hortensius was certainly going to have her hands full.

* * *

_End notes: There are no Roman family names starting with W, thus John Hamish Watson becomes Junius Hadrian Veturius. The Vigiles were a sort of firemen/police mashup created by Ceaser Augustus (during whose reign this story takes place) to deal with fires and criminal activities. Wikipedia has a good definition if you want to know more. :) I hope you enjoyed this newest addition to my stable of fics, and there is definitely more to come!_


	2. Emebant et Vendeban: Bought and Sold

_A/N: Shout out to nocturnias for looking this chapter over for me in various stages and catching some "oopsies". Please note that Sherlock's rather dark and derogatory thoughts in parts of this chapter are entirely his and do no reflect the views of a modern woman, but those of a bitter, angry young man who's just been enslaved and has a generally low opinion of everyone._

Characters Appearing in this chapter:

Sherlock Holmes – Sherlock (Briton, Roman slave, Mariana Tullia's eventual lover)

Molly Hooper – Mariana Tullia Hortensius (midwife and reluctant guardian to her troublesome younger brother)

John Watson – Junius Hadrian Veturius (former army doctor whose life was once saved by a young Brittonic scholar/soldier named Sherlock)

Bill Wiggins – Vergilius Felix Hortensius (General dogsbody and errand boy for the Hortensius family, a slave)

Mary Watson – Mariana Maxia Veturius (wife to Junius, mother of his future child)

* * *

Sherlock raged internally, his mind practically tying itself into knots as he sought some way out of his current predicament. Intellectually he'd known what to expect the moment the first set of irons were clapped on his wrists back in Angle's Land – he refused to call his home by the Roman name, Brittania – but knowing he was no longer his own man and actually being purchased by someone were two entirely different things.

He was especially furious with Junius Hadrian Veturius, the man who ostensibly owed his life to Sherlock, but who had so casually allowed this woman to purchase him.

Sherlock's lip curled as he studied her slender form. Such a proper young Roman _dominae_, he sneered to himself, ignoring the deductions that tried to flit through his mind in spite of his rage. He didn't want to deduce that she was unmarried (and had never been married, still a _virgo_, his mind easily supplying the Roman word for virgin just as it had for lady); that she was in charge of a wealthy household that included the younger brother he was supposedly to become the tutor for. Nor did he want to know that she was an accomplished midwife (she wore the symbol for her trade proudly, the silver pin holding her stole pinned to her soft blue chiton) and unusually independent for a _proper young Roman dominae_, although she had elder siblings who…

No. He stopped the rushing tide of deductions with an effort, uncomfortable with the stirring of interest he was beginning to feel about his new owner. Instead he forced himself to concentrate on Junius, about whom he already knew a great deal and had no further need to deduce – beyond, of course, why the man disregarded what he should have seen as his obligation, a debt of honor to be discharged, and allowed Sherlock to be purchased at all.

His first thought – that Mariana Tullia Hortensius, as he'd discovered her name to be when she'd signed the contract rendering possession of his self over to her and her family – and Junius were lovers was, on closer examination, untrue. Their relationship, the more he studied it as they made their way to what was about to become his new (_temporary_) home, seemed far more familial. Since Mariana's father (deceased, as well as her mother) had been a physician, it wasn't difficult to discern that the two men had been in partnership, and that Junius had known Mariana since childhood.

His scowl deepened. So he felt some sort of obligation to her as well, presumably one that superseded even the blood debt owed for the saving of his miserable, ungrateful life. Sherlock snorted in disgust; were Roman men, even former soldiers, so weak as to allow themselves to be twisted around by mere women? His brother would laugh his head off at the thought of failing in his duty to another man by putting the needs of a mere woman first.

His brother would certainly never do so. But then, Mycroft rarely put anyone's needs ahead of his own. Well, that wasn't entirely true; his brother rarely put any single person's needs above those of the Clan. Even those of his own brother; if he had, then Sherlock wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place. Oh, Mycroft had done what he could, Sherlock was certain of that, but even the most powerful Anglander was nothing compared to the might of the Roman Empire.

Sherlock's angry, resentful thoughts were interrupted by Junius' overly-hearty voice announcing their arrival at the small donkey cart that was apparently their transport to his new – and, if he had anything to say about it, _temporary_ – residence. He waited as Junius solicitously handed Mariana up to the driver, a thin, pale youth with spotty skin and, unusually for a Roman youth, a scraggly beard. Possibly an attempt to cover up the pox marks, a sign of self-consciousness…cursing silently in every language he knew, Sherlock tried to shut down the buzzing of his brain. He was tired of constantly analyzing everything and everyone about him, and had no desire to learn anything about these people in particular, especially since he was literally forced into their company. Later, of course, he would need to know, as he plotted his return to Angle's Land, but for now, he just wanted to be like everyone else, empty-headed and…

"This the new tutor, then? Don't look like much."

That was the driver, regarding him out of contemptuous, blood-shot blue eyes. Too much time spent in the company of wine and whores, the lad was going to die young if he didn't…

"Vergilius, your opinion of Sherlock isn't one I'm interested in at the moment," Mariana snapped at him – slave, not a freedman or servant. And Mariana pronounced his name, 'Sherlock', with no hesitation, no mispronunciation, interesting…no, _not_ interesting, by the Gods! "Please take us to Junius' surgery without the commentary." She gave him a sharp look, raking him from head to foot in a manner Sherlock found disconcertingly familiar – only he was usually the one doing the deducing. To see mannerisms he'd heard described about himself, only being utilized by an attractive woman…wait, attractive? Where had _that_ come from? He must be more disturbed by his current circumstances than he'd realized.

Distracted by the apparent betrayal of his own mind – he prided himself on not noticing if a woman was pretty or not – it took him a moment to realize that Mariana was blasting the slave for having wine on his breath when she'd given him explicit instructions to remain with the cart and patient gray donkey (healthy, well-cared for, no signs of abuse or neglect) hooked up to it. "There are thieves who wouldn't think twice about stealing an unattended cart and donkey in broad daylight, Vergilius Felix Hortensius, and you know it! Yet you walk away in order to sneak a few draughts of wine before the sun has even reached its zenith…" Her expression went from stern to distraught, and Vergilius' sullen resentment dissolved instantly into distress as she said quietly, with a look of pain in her eyes, "I took a chance on you, when my sisters urged me to sell you because of your less savory habits. Please don't make me regret not listening to them."

Without another word, she took her place in the back of the cart, waiting silently as Junius indicated that Sherlock should join her, before he took his own place on the driver's seat next to the now thoroughly cowed-looking driver.

After they started moving, Vergilius said in a low voice, "I..I'm sorry, missus. It won't happen again. You have my word."

She sighed softly and continued to gaze sadly out at the passing scenery, such as it was in the bustling dockside markets of Rome. "I wish I could believe you," she said, and to Sherlock's surprise, he heard genuine regret in her voice.

Just as he'd heard genuine remorse in the slave's voice. He spoke without meaning to: "You can believe him, he means it. Oh, he'll have lapses, but he will try harder from now on, it's obvious your words actually reached him this time. No doubt it was the slump in your shoulders and the sincerity of your sorrow at the thought of punishing him as your sisters would like you to. When you were being harsh he ignored the words and heard only the tone, which only served to feed his resentment."

He fell silent as he saw Mariana openly gaping at him; he felt other eyes on him and half-turned to see Vergilius also staring at him in amazement. Only Junius' eyes remained on the road, and he chuckled to himself before saying, "You'll get used to that about Sherlock. He sees things others don't. But not to worry, he swears it isn't magic or evil spirits, just simple observation, and I believe him."

For the first time since leaving the market, Sherlock met Mariana's eyes. They went from wide with surprise to wary to neutral so rapidly others might have missed the flickering emotions, but not him. He knew his own expression betrayed nothing, at most the cool contempt that was his fallback position when indifference couldn't quite be managed. Such as now. He'd unsettled himself, speaking when he'd fully intended on remaining silent. Not _pouting_, as his brother would undoubtedly characterize it, just maintaining an aloof silence to let everyone know just how displeased he was with his current circumstances.

She opened her mouth, obviously about to ask him something, and he braced himself; she would want to know how a barbarian had got so clever or something equally inane. Instead, he was rather pleasantly surprised when instead she asked, "How many languages do you speak?"

"Fourteen," he found himself replying, once again in spite of his intentions otherwise. "Eight more than you do, or possibly nine," he added smugly.

Instead of taking umbrage with his insolence or demanding to know how he'd known she spoke anything other than Latin, his new _owner_ chose to focus on the conversation she'd initiated – and offer him a challenge at the same time. "Local dialects don't count as languages."

He eyed her narrowly as he huffed, "I'm not counting local dialects." He switched to Greek and added, "If you wish to test me on my knowledge, I'm willing to start now." Then he added something in Gaelic for good measure, confident it was one of the languages she didn't speak: "May as well get some use out of me while you can, woman, since I doubt I'll be in your hands for very long."

That last was a calculated risk, but her reaction reassured him that he'd been correct about her ignorance of a language from what she undoubtedly would classify as a remote and backwards part of the mighty Roman Empire.

However, he saw Junius give him a sharp look and knew that the older man had recognized something in his words or possibly his tone. When he said nothing, Sherlock allowed himself to relax a bit; perhaps he was simply being paranoid.

They passed the remainder of the ride in a continuation of the test of his abilities that Mariana had started. When they arrived the site of Junius' medical practice, Mariana instructed Vergilius to continue with the remainder of the errands she'd apparently assigned him. Sherlock didn't miss the eagerness in the lad's demeanor as he promised to have them done in time to bring her home. She surprised him, however, when she informed him she and Sherlock would be walking the small distance; a pampered Roman female deigning to walk when she had alternate transport? Another interesting fact to file away in his mind, however unwillingly.

He endured the physical examination Junius subjected him to without protest, even though he'd undergone almost exactly the same procedure – and at the same hands – not two hours earlier. Before his hair had been shorn to a proper Roman length (which he fully intended to allow to grow out again as soon as he was free), and the stubble on his chin and cheeks smoothed away for the first time in weeks. Yes, he was only being made presentable for his new owner, but he had to admit it had felt good to return to some measure of cleanliness after months of miserable conditions. But he refused to feel anything beyond that, certainly not gratitude.

He unthawed only when Junius quietly introduced his wife, also named Mariana and quite heavy with child. He saw genuine warmth in the woman's blue eyes when she looked at her husband, and a quiet sympathy when she greeted Sherlock that was entirely unfeigned…as well as a fierce intelligence that she quickly hid as soon as she realized she'd given it away to him. He smirked to himself, wondering if Junius realized that he'd married a woman who would no doubt equal any of the female warriors from his own homeland, then dismissed the thought; if the doctor didn't know, then he didn't deserve to have it pointed out to him. But this Mariana bore watching, for far different reasons than the woman who had purchased him and was now fussing over Junius' wife, asking after her health and predicting how many (or few) weeks were left before the baby's arrival.

When his own examination was over and the two women had withdrawn to a private chamber in order for Mariana Tullia to give Mariana Junius' wife a more thorough looking-over, Junius ordered him – ordered him! – to sit on one of the low couches the Romans favored, taking his own seat opposite and pouring out two glasses of watered-down wine. "Drink this," he said, handing Sherlock the first cup and taking a healthy swig of his own as he did so.

Sherlock took the cup and decided his thirst was more important than his desire to ignore any friendly overtures from the other man, sipping cautiously and pleasantly surprised to find that the wine was more than passable.

"Don't do it."

Sherlock's eyes rose to meet Junius defiantly. "Don't do what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Run away. Don't do it. You're a slave now, Sherlock," Junius said, speaking bluntly as was his wont. "There's nothing that can be done about the situation at the moment, so you have to endure it. And running away won't do you any good; you don't know Rome the way you knew Londinium, and you'd just end up dragged back to the Hortensius household in chains, after a very public flogging and who knows what other humiliations." He leaned forward with his elbow on his knee and narrowed his eyes. "You might even be branded, and if you try to run away more than once, Mariana's sisters would be within their rights to declare you too troublesome and sell you off to work in the iron mines or someplace equally miserable, where you would be sure to die at a much younger age than I think you'd care for."

His words hung in the silence, and John kept his eyes trained on the younger man's as he took a slow, deliberate drink of his wine. Sherlock was obviously thinking about what he'd just been told, not simply dismissing it or scoffing the way he'd been earlier when Junius had tried to get through to him.

Good. The lad's situation was not a good one, that much was true, and if Junius could do anything about it, he would. "I can't buy you from them, Sherlock," he said quietly, finally telling Sherlock what he'd tried to tell him at the slave market. "If I could, believe me, I would, but I have a wife and soon a child to care for, and although my medical practice is steady, I don't have the cash for something as expensive as a slave that I would then be obligated to set free. I'm sure that sounds like a feeble excuse to you, but I have others to think about than myself, and that's just the way it is. I'm sorry."

The other man said nothing, simply swallowed the remainder of his wine and sat with his back ramrod straight on the low couch, eyes gone distant. Whether he was actually thinking about what Junius had just told him or not was unknown and unknowable, but the former military man hoped that was exactly what he was doing. Whether he forgave him or not was immaterial, although he found himself wishing that would happen eventually; what was important was whether he'd impressed Sherlock with the need to accept his fate, at least for now.

With that in mind, he told him about the situation he was going into. That Aegyptus was a bright lad and wouldn't need a tutor forever; that the Hortensius family was known for being generous when it came to manumitting their slaves and treating them like members of the family until they'd earned their freedom or were old enough to be allowed to retire peaceably to one of the family's country estates. Even Mariana's older sisters honored those family traditions, although they took a harder stance than she did in most other things. They certainly wouldn't permit her to release a slave before his useful years had passed, not even for their father's oldest friend and former partner.

He could see that Sherlock was listening to him again, although his eyes remained focused on some unseen point just past Junius' left shoulder.

When he spoke, Junius wasn't surprised that he sounded defiant, but there was a definite note of uncertainty beneath the arrogance. "I'm not stupid, Junius. I don't care how complex Rome is. You don't think I've already memorized the route between here and the slave market, and from there to the port?"

Junius nodded. "Oh yes, I'm certain you could. Just as I'm certain you'd eventually be caught and dragged back to the Hortensius household for punishment. Yes, you're smart, Sherlock, but you weren't smart enough to avoid capture in the first place, were you? Or to escape before being brought here?" The faintest flinch and flickering eyelids told him those shots, cruel but necessary, had hit home." He paused to let those statements sink in before pressing on: "And the mines, Sherlock, although I'm certain a learning experience, wouldn't exactly allow you to exercise your mind. You have to make a choice, weigh your options: would it really be better to risk an early death by hard labor, with your mind rotting away, than to endure a life tutoring a young man who I can assure you is eager to learn? Living in a household that will treat you well as long as you obey the rules and do your job? Working for those who will allow you to save any money you earn – and yes, I can assure you that Mariana will allow you to take on outside employment once you show yourself to be trustworthy and capable – to be put aside to eventually purchase your freedom? Or who will most likely grant it to you eventually?"

Junius knew when to stop talking, unlike certain other people, and lounged comfortably on his couch as he waited for his wife and Mariana to stop their gossiping – most likely about the exotic new slave – and return to the main lounge. As he did so he studiously ignored Sherlock, allowing him to mull over everything Junius had told him, and to contemplate exactly which future he preferred. Yes, there was a chance he could escape from Rome and make his way back to Brittania and Londinium, but he would be a fugitive, a runaway slave who would always have to look over his shoulder and sleep with one eye open at night.

The two Marianas returned, laughing and chatting, while he finished his second cup of wine. Sherlock had declined his unspoken offer of another, placing his empty cup down on the low table sat between their respective couches as soon as he heard the women approaching. Junius rose to his feet, waiting to see if Sherlock would follow his silent lead and pleased when the younger man imitated him. Mariana would have someone instruct him in the proper protocols for their particular household, but Sherlock might as well get used to standing in the presence of his…well, 'betters' was probably not the right word, but Junius was hard-pressed to think of the appropriate word to use in its place.

Mariana Tullia's laughter died as soon as she saw the two men, and Junius was discomfited once again by the intensity with which she gazed at Sherlock. He'd never considered her a passionate woman; she'd always been so quiet and reserved in her dealings with members of the opposite sex, which admittedly he'd rarely seen. He remembered vaguely there'd been a betrothal at some point but she had broken things off when the young man turned out to be unsuitable for reasons that had never been disclosed. Was it after that that she'd turned cooler toward the idea of marriage, or had her parents' deaths had something to do with it? He loved her like a daughter yet was caught off-guard by how little he knew her heart.

Something about Sherlock had awoken something within her, that much was obvious, but whether that would turn out for the good or not remained to be seen. In the hands of the Gods, as the pious would put it, although he held very little stock in them himself, having witnessed too much of the brutality of the world to believe anyone was looking out for mankind.

He sighed inwardly as Mariana kissed his wife goodbye and did the same to him. He would have his own Mary caution her against the folly of taking up with a slave; men could get away with such, but if Mariana was ever found to have shared Sherlock's bed or, Gods forbid, bear him a child, she would lose all status. Her sisters would turn her out and take over Aegyptus' care, which would be disastrous for both of them. No, Mariana needed to be warned for her own sake, and his Mary's word would be one she listened to.

He hoped. That look in Mariana Tullia's eyes…it uncomfortably reminded him of how he'd first gazed at his wife when they were courting. Fascination and admiration that had quickly turned to an unbreakable love.

Shaking his head, he watched Sherlock and Mariana walking away from his surgery and home with an ache in his gut.

He just hoped the pair of them could manage their emotions better than they had been so far; he feared Sherlock wasn't above using her attraction to him, once he noticed it, in order to further his own purposes.

"Husband?"

He glanced down as Mary wound her arm around his waist and laid her other hand on his chest. They were nearly of a height, and he loved how he didn't have to look down at her in order to meet her eyes. "Something is troubling you," she pronounced, and he closed the slight distance between them in order to press a soft, loving kiss to her lips.

"Perceptive as always," he replied, taking her back into their private quarters and closing the door behind them. "Come to the garden and I'll tell you all about it." He glanced at her small smirk and added with mock-concern, "That is, whatever you haven't already gleaned from Mariana Tullia, of course."

Her tinkling laughter soothed his troubled soul as they strolled to the interior courtyard. His wife always could make him feel better, no matter what might be wrong.


	3. Donec a Secundis: A Favorable Homecoming

_Characters Appearing (Or Mentioned) In This Chapter:_

_Molly Hooper – Mariana Tullia Hortensius (midwife and reluctant guardian to her troublesome younger brother)_

_Molly's troublesome younger brother – Marcus Aegyptius Hortensius_

_Greg Lestrade – Gaius Flavius Lartius (head of the local Vigiles who has brought a certain troublesome younger brother back home after getting into mischief on more than one occasion)_

_Sally Donovan – Salonina Theodora Dossenius (personal maid to Mariana Tullia, currently being wooed by a local barber)_

_Martha Hudson – Marcia Faustina Hosidius (head servant - Procuratrix - in the Hortensius household)_

_Irene Adler – Eirene Sylvia Aedinius (Mariana Tullia's good friend, owner of a local brothel and invaluable dispenser of advice regarding…)_

_Sherlock Holmes – Sherlock (Briton, Roman slave, Mariana Tullia's eventual lover)_

* * *

Mariana knew it was a bit of a risk, walking home with Sherlock, allowing him a small taste of freedom when it was clear he was contemplating fleeing, but her home was only minutes away and the street was a busy one, especially at this time of the day. It didn't surprise her when Sherlock commented on that very fact. "You don't actually trust me not to run away or attack you, yet you allow me to walk with you without being chained up or even escorted."

She kept her eyes straight ahead of her as they walked, not daring to look at him for fear of losing herself in those brilliant, beautiful orbs. The way they darkened and lightened as his mood altered, and as the sun struck them, bringing out flecks of gold amongst the blues and greens, was almost hypnotizing, and she needed to keep her new acquisition from realizing he held such a strong fascination for her if she ever wished to bring him to heel.

Such thoughts made her uncomfortable; since when did she use such terms as 'bring him to heel' even in her own mind when it came to a fellow human being? Her father would be ashamed of her, but there was something about Sherlock that fascinated her on a very basic, primal level, that made her want to simultaneously give herself over to him and have him under her control. Sexual relations between them were forbidden by law, utterly immoral…wait, why was she suddenly thinking about such things? She felt her cheeks flaming and was glad of her mantle, knowing it hid most of her face from his view.

"If you wish to run off and take your chances, there's not much I could do to stop you, whether you do so here or once we arrive home," she finally said. "It's not as if you will be chained to a wall once we arrive." She darted her eyes toward his left ankle, where the marks of his imprisonment still remained, covered by a neat white bandage applied by Junius Hadrian. "Our household is of modest size, and although I employ two guards, I'm afraid you're likely to be able to think circles around them and find them no deterrent."

She wondered if she was being too frank and honest at this moment, when it was just the two of them, but mentally shrugged her shoulders and plowed on; he would learn all of this soon enough, so there was no point in holding anything back. As she'd already pointed out, if he chose to run, there was little she could do to stop him. "None of us have personal bodyguards, although my sisters have been pressing me to find one for Marcus Aegyptus, someone to keep him from running off whenever he gets bored." She pulled a face at the myriad ways her sisters saw fit to interfere in what was ostensibly her own household. "Since you are hardly the aged scholar they expected when I was instructed to find a new tutor, I think they'll agree you'll fit the bill."

"As long as I don't simply encourage the lad to continue his wayward behavior and use it as an excuse to slip my own leash, is what you really mean," Sherlock said mockingly. Mariana turned to glare at him, and he scowled back at her in return. "Don't worry, Junius Hadrian made it quite clear that there would be consequences I would not enjoy if I were to be so foolish as to try and flee your custody."

She stopped, turning to face him, for once in her life discomfited by the need to crane her neck to look up at a man. Any disadvantage with Sherlock was bound to be exploited, she didn't need to know about him to know that much. "Give me your word that you'll try no such thing and I'll believe you," she said.

His brow knit in obvious confusion, and she was pleased to once again have obviously confounded his expectations of her. "You'll trust my word?"

She nodded. "Yes. A man honorable enough to save Junius Hadrian from death simply because he valued his knowledge and skills as a physician is the sort of man who doesn't give his word lightly."

She watched him studying her, truly studying her, for the first time since that first, electric meeting only a few short hours ago. His eyes lingered on her midwife's sigil, proudly worn as a brooch on her bright blue chiton, then examined her hands, held loosely at her sides, no doubt reading the calluses and scratches on her fingers the way other men might read a scroll.

When he finally met her eyes, there was a seriousness in them she hadn't seen before, although his lips were still twisted in a sardonic smile. "I give my word I will never take advantage of your brother in order to facilitate my own situation."

Not quite the promise she'd been hoping for, but it would do. For now. She nodded sharply and continued walking, pleased when he joined her rather than remaining stubbornly still…or running off the moment her back was turned.

Her thoughts were busy the remainder of the brief walk; quarters had already been set aside for the new slave, but her Procuratrix, Marcia Faustina Hosidius, would need to find clothing to fit his tall, lanky form, as there was unlikely to be anything suitable in the house. Thinking of the Procuratrix set Mariana's thoughts in a different direction, bringing to mind Marcia Faustina's cousin, whom the rest of the household had first met on one memorable occasion, when he'd brought Marcus Aegyptus home the first time he'd run off to seek adventure. Gaius Flavius Lartius was a captain in the local Vigiles, and every time her brother had pulled a similar stunt, it was he who brought the young boy back home. His stated purpose was two-fold: to return the boy, of course, but also to visit his cousin (and to eat a decent meal, judging by the greedy way he downed anything she put in front of him).

However, Mariana had her suspicions, since he also seemed quite smitten with her personal maid. Although Salonina Theodora Dossenius already had a suitor, a local barber, she seemed just as pleased with Gaius Flavius' flirtation. Mariana would have to keep an eye on the situation; both were freeborn, but as head of the household it was her duty to ensure that no immoral activities took place under her roof, a duty she'd always taken very seriously. As a midwife, she saw first-hand the results of such activities, especially since she'd formed a friendship with a local brothel owner, the _leno_ Eirene Sylvia Aedinius. No, she had no desire for her personal maid – and friend – to be forced into a marriage because the proper precautions hadn't been taken, or worse, to seek out the aid of an abortionist to help rid her of an unwanted child. Better the girl should follow Mariana's example and wait until marriage before allowing a man between her legs.

Of course, Salonina was only seventeen and Mariana a matronly twenty-one so she doubted her advice, were it to be offered explicitly, would be heeded. Especially since the younger woman had a breezy confidence around attractive men that Mariana had always envied. At least Salonina had the advantage of knowing that any suitors that came calling wanted her for herself and not for her family's money, Mariana thought bitterly, then chastised herself for doing so. Her romantic woes were in the past; she had a good life, a career many women would envy, a smoothly running (for the most part) household, and even if the new slave had the potential to be a troublesome one, she was confident she could deal with him, especially with Junius' help and insights.

**oOo**

They arrived at the Hortensius household with no trouble and no further conversation, although Mariana could practically feel the tension radiating off her new slave the closer they came. Once at the door, she turned to face him squarely. "This is your new home, Sherlock," she said, keeping her voice quiet and even; although this was the first time she'd had to give such a speech, she'd heard her parents make similar ones on several occasions while growing up. "You will be treated with courtesy and kindness, as long as you treat others the same way. Your duties will be fully explained to you, quarters have been prepared, and all necessities will be provided, from this day forth until the day you leave our service. Our obligation to you extends beyond that day, of course; as long as you have served well and faithfully, I can assure you, you will never lack for anything you need."

As if on cue, the door opened as soon as she finished speaking, to reveal the beaming face of Marcia Faustina. "Welcome home, Domina!" she exclaimed, pulling the door wide and stepping aside to allow them entry. "And welcome to you as well!" she added, smiling at Sherlock, although there was a puzzled expression in her eyes. No doubt due to Sherlock's youth, but Mariana would fill her in on the necessary details as soon as she had the opportunity. "I am Marcia Faustina Hosidius, Procuratrix for the Hortensius family, and I look forward to helping you learn how we do things here." A hint of steel made itself known with that statement, the head servant's subtle way of telling the newcomer that no shenanigans would be tolerated.

His response was a smirk, an expression Mariana predicted she would quickly find tiresome, but he merely inclined his head in thanks and followed silently as they finally entered the house.

After showing him where he would be sleeping (and noting the slight lip-curl he had in response to seeing the small, sparse quarters), Mariana decided it would be best to introduce him to her brother, and so brought him to the large interior courtyard where she knew Marcus Aegyptus would currently be spending time. Her assumption was proved correct as they entered the sunny space, hearing shouts of childish laughter and the answering barks of a dog. Oh, she'd forgotten to tell Sherlock about the dog, but shrugged it off. It really didn't matter how he felt about pets, although she had some vague idea that most barbarian cultures kept dogs only as hunters and rat-catchers.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, the dog came bounding up to them, Marcus Aegyptus panting after him. He stopped short at the sight of the newest addition to the household standing by his sister's side, eyes wide and bright with curiosity. "Is this my new tutor?" He wrinkled his nose as Mariana nodded. "He doesn't look like much."

"Nor do you, to be honest," Sherlock replied before Mariana could say anything. "We both need a haircut and a change of clothes."

Ignoring Marcus Aegyptus' scowl – and Mariana's hastily-hidden smirk – he sank down on his haunches and held out his hand to the dog to be sniffed. "Your dog is clean and well cared for, a good sign."

"A good sign of what?" Her brother sounded curious rather than truculent, which was an ever better sign, in Mariana's opinion, which she kept to herself, allowing Marcus Aegyptus and Sherlock to interact without interference from her.

"That you understand responsibility," Sherlock replied easily. Mariana was amazed; she'd thought he would be as curt and surly with her brother as he'd been with everyone else to whom he'd spoken today, but it appeared that some part of whatever Junius had advised him when the two men spoke in private had sunk in after all. "Even in a household with as many servants and…slaves…as this one, care and feeding of a personal pet would be assigned to whoever the pet belonged to. He is clearly your dog, ergo you have the responsibility of seeing to his needs." The hesitation before the word 'slave' was slight, but Mariana noted it and felt a twinge of guilt, which she swiftly buried. It wasn't her fault he'd landed in whatever circumstances had led to him being sold into slavery (it was obvious he wasn't born into such a state), and she'd already assured him that his life here would be no hardship as long as he performed his duties well and faithfully.

Her brother, meanwhile, was gaping at Sherlock in open amazement. "I guess you're cleverer than you look," he said after a moment, lips stretching into a delighted grin. Mariana cringed inwardly; even if Sherlock was a slave, she'd already lectured her brother many times on the proper way to speak to his elders – and would be doing so again, it appeared. "You're right; Mariana would never allow me to keep him if I didn't care for him properly. She'd send him out to the country to live with my cousins or something." His lip curled at the thought, his opinion of that option clear as daylight.

Sherlock grinned right back at him, and Mariana had to remind herself that staring at his face, no matter how much more attractive it became when he did so, was improper, not to mention rude. Still, she would treasure that first glimpse of a smiling Sherlock, and secretly hoped to see that smile again sometime soon…preferably directed at her.

"His name is Barbarossa," Marcus Aegyptus introduced the dog solemnly as he continued to study the new tutor through the fringe of curls dangling over his forehead. He was well past due for a good barbering, but threw such outlandish fits when anyone came near him with the shears that Mariana had about given up on him. She stifled a grin as she realized she could actually decree such duties to be under the new tutor's purview, and imagined he'd find it not at all to his liking were she to do so.

She wasn't sure what it was about the newest member of the household that made her want to simultaneously kiss and throttle him, although his thorny tongue and air of continual irony were part of it. As were his ethereal good looks, his sea-colored eyes, and his own unruly head of dark curls, so very like her brothers now that she was seeing the two of them together for the first time.

Sherlock was currently petting the dog whose coat was indeed of a reddish hue, although of course he had no true beard to merit the full meaning of the name her brother had chosen. "It's a fine name for a fine beast," Sherlock pronounced, offering Marcus a half-smile, which her brother responded to with a wide grin as he reached out to scratch behind his dog's ears.

Mariana felt a wave of relief flow over her; the first meeting was going well, Sherlock was showing no signs of being uncomfortable or unpleasant – although only time would tell – and Marcus Aegyptus was even behaving himself. She wondered if the liking they seemed to share would last, and hoped it would. Her brother hadn't responded nearly half so well to any of his other tutors, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks as he proceeded to show Sherlock the small toy army he'd set up under the shade of the courtyard's carefully nurtured olive tree.

Mariana debated whether it would be better to introduce Sherlock to the rest of the staff or allow him to continue getting acquaint himself with Marcus Aegyptus. In the end, she decided to leave them be; Sherlock was behaving himself and her brother seemed happy enough to explain the strategies and tactics his miniature Centurions were employing to his new tutor. The fact that Sherlock appeared to be taking the boy's explanations seriously was another good sign, and she breathed out a silent prayer to the Gods that his prickly attitude seemed to have abated for the moment.

She did not, however, try to fool herself for one minute into believing that this alteration in demeanor was in any way a permanent one; Sherlock had far too many rough edges, was filled with a rage she recognized all too easily as one that would not easily be tamed.

_Tamed_. There she was again, thinking of him in terms of some sort of exotic new pet she'd acquired, rather than an intelligent tutor who would be responsible for her brother's education from now on. She wished her mind would order itself properly and stop dwelling on the beauty of his sea-green eyes, or the perfect Cupid's bow of his lips, the marble-like paleness of his body…

Oh, she was past due for a private session with one of the special devices Eirene Sylvia had given her, in order to purge herself of the arousal she was more than half-way to feeling! Her father would lecture her for having neglected her health so terribly, and she resolved to deal with the issue before retiring for the evening to her private quarters.

However, she had a feeling that the object of her fantasies would be the very man now kneeling on the grassy area carefully maintained in the center of the courtyard. And she doubted very much that he would be discussing toy soldiers or dogs at that time.

* * *

_Historical Note: The __Vigiles - __or more properly the __Vigiles Urbani __("watchmen of the __City__") or __Cohortes Vigilum __("__cohorts __of the watchmen") were the __firefighters __and __police __of __Ancient Rome__. They were organized in the AD 6 by Augustus, the first Roman Emperor._

_Salacious Note: One of the Roman beliefs about sex was that, although__ unmarried women were supposed to remain chaste and virginal, if they weren't getting regular sexual pleasure they would fall ill. I took this idea and ran with it for this story, lol._

_Oh, and a leno is a female brothel owner. :) And Domina means mistress, as a term of respect._


	4. Quomodo Vincat Profugus Est?

**Chapter Title Translation: How Do You Conquer a Fugitive Heart?**

**Warnings for mature content and references to BDSM.**

_Characters appearing in or mentioned in this chapter: _

_John Watson – Junius Hadrian Veturius (former army doctor whose life was once saved by a young Brittonic scholar/soldier named Sherlock)_

_Molly Hooper – Mariana Tullia Hortensius (midwife and reluctant guardian to her troublesome younger brother)_

_Molly's sisters – Flavia Lucretia and Juliana Justinia_

_Molly's troublesome younger brother – Marcus Aegyptius Hortensius_

_Greg Lestrade – Gaius Flavius Lartius (head of the local Vigiles)_

_Sally Donovan – Salonina Theodora Dossenius (personal maid to Mariana Tullia)_

_Martha Hudson – Marcia Faustina Hosidius (head female servant – Procuratrix – in the Hortensius household)_

_Bill Wiggins – Vergilius Felix Hortensius (General dogsbody and errand boy for the Hortensius family, a slave)_

_Sherlock Holmes – Sherlock (Briton, Roman slave, Mariana Tullia's eventual lover)_

Six weeks after bringing Sherlock home, Mariana was cautiously optimistic at how easily the prickly young slave had settled into his new life. He and Vergilius had become fast friends despite their initial disdain for one another, and Mariana had given permission for the younger man to join her brother in his studies when not busy with his own chores. For the first time since her father had purchased him, Vergilius showed an interest in learning to read and write, which gave Mariana cause for quiet rejoicing as his previous preoccupation with wine and whores had dropped dramatically at the same time. She'd always despaired over the youth's inability to rein in his baser instincts and do anything to better himself in spite of the opportunities first her father and then she herself had offered him.

Slaves in the Hortensius household rarely remained slaves for more than ten years, as her father had always been generous in allowing them to earn money as long as it didn't interfere with their duties to the family. In fact, he'd even paid them for taking on additional duties outside their usual purview, which Mariana knew many of her father's fellow _equites proprium_ found a scandalous and wasteful practice. It was one, however, of which she wholeheartedly approved, and honored to the best of her abilities. Her sisters' husbands had attempted to restrain that tradition once their parents died, but it was one area where Flavia Lucretia and Juliana Justinia allowed her to make her own decisions without second-guessing her.

Since first meeting Marcus Aegyptus, Sherlock had become the model slave, with only two exceptions: he and her personal maid, Salonina Theodora, couldn't seem to get along no matter how many times she reprimanded the pair of them, which Mariana found exasperating but understandable. Because to her secret amusement, the two of them were very much alike in spite of the outward differences between them.

The second matter was much less amusing, and Mariana dreaded the day it crossed the line from slightly annoying to outright insolence: the way he spoke to her, personally. There was no open mockery or disobedience in his words or aspects, but it was always there, simmering below the surface.

She sincerely hoped that he managed to stay on the right side of that line for as long as he was in her family's service. Which, she thought glumly, might not be very long at all, since he'd already found a way to earn his own money. It was common practice, one he'd taken ruthless advantage of but one that she could hardly find fault with. After all, she'd been the one to give him permission to assist Gaius Flavius Lartius with matters of public safety, since the two of them had formed a friendship that surprised her at first…until she realized that they'd bonded over their mutual affection for Marcus Aegyptus, the catalyst for their first meeting two weeks after Sherlock's arrival. The earnings did not come directly from the Vigiles, of course, but from grateful clients whose stolen goods or missing children had been returned to them with Sherlock's assistance.

The thought of him one day buying his freedom caused an ache in her heart that Mariana did her best to ignore; he was a slave, and even if he was freed tomorrow, he was still off-limits to her. Even though she'd literally spent many hours over the past six weeks imagining him between her legs, envisioning him doing some truly filthy things to her when appeasing her lusts in the privacy of her bedroom (_for her health,_ she reminded herself even as she flushed at the memory of some of those sessions), she knew the hard realities of their situation: he could be severely punished for sullying her purity if anyone of authority found out, and she could be ostracized or worse. The thought of losing her status as a valued _maia_, being forced out of a calling she'd treasured her entire adult life, was enough to chill her ardor…at least during the daylight hours.

The nights, on the other hand…oh, how she dreamed of him, waking and sleeping; kissing him and being kissed in return, their naked flesh pressed together, his mouth on her breasts and private parts, her hands exploring his manhood (which she'd accidentally glimpsed once when he'd strolled out of his room stark naked, entirely absorbed in the scroll he'd been reading and unaware of where he was until she'd loudly cleared her throat)…oh, the nights were torture to her right now. Aside from the need to maintain public decorum, the only thing keeping her from inviting him into her chambers was the clear disdain with which he still held her. He stopped short of outright mocking or disobeying her, but there was a coolness in his manner toward her, the lurking sensation that he obeyed her not out of respect but only because the consequences would be uncomfortable to him personally, that continued to dismay her.

She thought back to a conversation they'd had just that morning, when she'd commandeered him for the sole purpose of teaching him a lesson for some slight he'd given her while pretending not to. They'd been strolling along the Via Pigmentarii, his arms laden with packets of varying sizes while she fidgeted with the many bangles Salonina had insisted on burdening her with since she was going out in public, when Sherlock spoke up. "Why?"

Mariana glanced at him sidelong; he hadn't said a word to her the entire hour they'd been out, not unless she had asked him a direct question. His tone was abrupt but not insolent, and so she was willing to respond. "Why what?"

"Why do you treat me so…well?" He sounded frustrated, annoyed; clearly this question had been preying on him for some time.

Mariana shrugged. "I treat you as well as I treat all the slaves in our household."

"Even though I am not as obedient as you would like me to be," he said, his tone sharpening in that way that set her teeth on edge. So much for the pleasant outing to replenish her medicinal stocks. "Shouldn't you have had me beaten by now? I know you've been advised to do so by your sisters," he added bitterly.

"Why?" she asked, stung at his belief that she was…what, weak? Did he see her restraint as a weakness? Annoyance sharpened her tone as she asked, "Is that what you thought would happen to you once I purchased you? Did you think that just because I am a Roman that I abuse or mistreat all of my slaves? Did you think you would get a flogging every morning before breakfast?"

He snorted before the sound could be silenced, then shrugged as she glared at him, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he responded. "Your sisters seem to think that would be more appropriate."

"They run their households as they see fit, and I run mine as my father and mother taught me," she snapped, further annoyed that he would keep bringing her elder sisters into the conversation. "True, it's not the most conventional method, and there have been occasional problems…"

"Understatement," Sherlock muttered.

"So now you think I am incapable of keeping order in my house, do you?" Mariana said, raising an eyebrow. His earlier impertinence was returning a bit, and she couldn't allow that. "Maybe you _do_ need a flogging," she muttered under her breath in an obscure Grecian dialect her father favored.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in turn. "Perhaps," he replied in the same tongue, "if that's what you like for breakfast."

Both of them looked shocked by their words, and glanced down. Mariana cleared her throat. "I think it's time we finished our errands. Come along." She turned into the entrance to their destination, Sherlock right behind her. The rest of the journey was spent in silence, and once home they went their separate ways, Sherlock to take up his usual duties and Mariana to hide herself in her private chambers until called out to assist with a difficult delivery.

That night, after the rest of the household had retired with the exception of the doorman on duty, she walked the corridors as was her usual habit. She refused to dwell on her reasons for lingering outside Sherlock's door longer than she should have, although she did have to remind herself that spying on members of one's household was rude and showed a lack of trust that none here deserved.

Even him. Even though she could see the light spilling beneath his door, indicating that he was burning oil so he could stay up late reading again. For a split second she considered knocking on the door and ordering him to sleep, as he would have a full day with Marcus Aegyptus tomorrow, then forced herself to walk away. He rarely slept, from what she'd seen of him, and since he continued to perform his duties in an exemplary manner, she was hardly in a position to condemn him for furthering his studies.

After she retired to her own chambers for the night, she still couldn't get him out of her mind. She pictured him lying on his bed, a scroll in those long, elegant hands of his, brow furrowed as he picked out some nuance of the text that most people would miss after a lifetime of readings, and smiled to herself at the image. If he disagreed with something in the text his nose would wrinkle and he might toss it aside with a disgusted huff, ruffling his curls in that way he had when especially frustrated with the stupidity of others.

Without realizing she'd done so, Mariana's hands drifted across her abdomen and down her body, rubbing lightly at her female center as she continued to picture Sherlock in her mind. Perhaps he, like herself, was entirely nude right now; perhaps he wasn't reading at all, but rather pleasuring himself as all men did, one hand wrapped around his…

Mariana gasped in dismay as she realized she was doing it again, using thoughts and images of her slave to bring pleasure to her body. It was so very wrong, yet she couldn't stop herself if she tried. Her fingers slid along her increasingly-wet channel, her thumb finding the hidden pearl that was the key to a woman's deepest physical pleasure. She imagined Sherlock's hands gliding along her body, touching her where she was currently touching herself, and felt the rising tide of pleasure preparing to carry her over the edge.

An edge she'd had no intention of even approaching tonight. Then an image of herself with the ceremonial flogger she'd purchased upon taking up the duties as head of her brother's household came unbidden to her mind. She pictured Sherlock's naked form kneeling before her, his head bowed submissively as she caressed his shoulders and lovely, toned backside with the weapon's blue-dyed leather points, and her body fell to pieces; she let out a low, keening wail and collapsed, arms and legs falling limp as the aftershocks poured through her.

It was the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced; as her trembling finally ended, she rolled onto her side and curled into a tight ball, unwilling to contemplate just why the thought of truly dominating her slave excited her so.

**oOo**

Sherlock didn't understand what it was about Mariana Tullia that unsettled him so much. Yes, a large part of it was the fact that he'd been torn from his life and forced into slavery, but that was a risk he'd long ago accepted as a possibility if he continued on his course of assisting those determined to remove the Romans from Angle's Land. He'd just calculated it would happen more on the 'later' side than the 'sooner', and part of his dissatisfaction could be traced to chagrin that he'd been wrong…and his elder brother had been right.

However, if he had to endure this exile from home and life of forced servitude, at least he'd landed in a favorable position. Well, as favorable as he could hope for. Certainly it was as Junius had promised; Mariana Tullia was an exemplary mistress.

The problem was, he found his mind occupied more and more with a desire to make that title more than simply ceremonial.

Physical desire, the base need to drive his cock into a female's cunt, had always been something he'd disdained. It distracted one from the mind, from intellectual pursuits, and his readings of Plato and Porphyry only further convinced him that his decision to abstain from such activities was the right one. He'd lived a quarter of a century without being tempted by anyone, male or female, into pursuing such earthy avenues.

Until now.

Mariana Tullia Hortensius was the one person who could distract and unsettle him when he most craved control. And it wasn't even that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen; she would willingly admit she wasn't even the most beautiful woman in her own household; he'd once overheard her laughingly ceding that honor to her personal maid, the infuriating (although not in a sexual manner) Salonina Theodora Dossenius.

He considered the two women, frustrated and confused by his differing reactions to the two of them, the scroll he'd been attempting to study lying forgotten on his lap. His duties had been discharged for the day; Marcus Aegyptus was in bed, the rest of the household was settling in for the night, and he was using some of his precious private store of lamp oil to try and settle his mind by reading.

So much for that thought. Images of Salonina and Mariana flitted through his mind as he considered why the one only roused his irritation and the other roused his…more primal instincts. Salonina was slightly younger, with dusky skin, dark eyes and tightly kinked black hair betraying her African origins. Mariana was fair skinned and brown eyed, her hair a luscious fall of chestnut brown.

He scoffed at himself; even when trying to be impartial his rebellious mind still found ways to conjure overtly flattering descriptions of her. Salonina was tall, Mariana was petite. Both women held positions of power over him, although arguably the servant's status wasn't that much over his that it made any real difference. Salonina was loud and rather vulgar, his Mariana was much more soft-spoken and refined even when glowering at him with anger.

Without realizing it, his lips curved into a soft smile as he remembered how upset she had been with him this very day, forcing him to act as her carry-all as she ran her various errands in the markets. He'd purposefully not spoken a word to her unless spoken to, sulking a bit when she refused to become exasperated with his clipped responses and prolonged silences. It was almost as if it were a game between them, one she enjoyed as much as he did.

And then he'd broken his self-imposed silence to ask the one question that had been puzzling him ever since he'd grown resigned to his new life. A simple question, yet so complex.

_Why?_ Why didn't she treat him as she'd been advised to, as others – including Junius Hadrian Veturius, whom he still hadn't entirely forgiven – had warned him he should and could expect?

Why, when he'd finally goaded her into exasperatedly muttering that perhaps she should give him a flogging, had the conversation stopped feeling like a simple quest for information or even a verbal fencing match, and more like a…flirtation?

And most disturbing of all, _why_ had he felt that odd tightening in his body at the fleeting idea of her flogging him?

Sherlock's mental musings came to an abrupt end as his traitorous body, no doubt overstimulated by the undisciplined wanderings of his mind, brought itself to his attention in an unpleasant (but not entirely unexpected) manner.

He had an erection.

He gazed down at his body as if staring at a foreign object rather than the housing for his superior intellect, feeling betrayed and outraged. He was further outraged when he realized his hands had crept downward until one palm was cradling his bollocks and the other was encircling his engorged penis. When had he lost so much control over himself, that the mere thought of a single woman could undo him so completely?

Mmm, a single woman who was in possession of a personal flogger that she'd never actually had reason to use on anyone since she'd purchased it. Which she'd done immediately after taking charge of the Hortensius household. It had a plain black handle and a bundle of vibrant blue tails with tightly knotted points at the end…

"Merda!" he swore, angrier at himself than he'd been since being captured by the Roman patrol that fateful night twelve weeks earlier. He flopped onto his back and glared at the ceiling, attempting to banish such ridiculous thoughts from his mind…and failing miserably. Finally, with a disgruntled huff, he groped for the small bronze snuffer and put out the lamp.

As his room fell abruptly into darkness his hands once again made their way southward, and he grudgingly gave into his body's urgent need for release.

If it was an image of a naked Mariana wielding that specific flogger that brought him to his release several intense, sweaty minutes later, that wasn't something he would ever acknowledge.

_End of chapter Latin notes: _

_Via Pigmentarii – Street of the Apothecaries_

_Maia – Midwife_

_Via Pigmentarii – Street of the Apothecaries_

_Merda – feces (that one was probably really easy for folks to figure out, lol)_

_Equites Proprium – Property-knight (__commoners who attained the property-threshold, and were accorded Knightly status and regalia by Augustus, but…were not eligible to enter the Senate or hold the public posts reserved for [hereditary] Knights). (via Wikipedia)_


End file.
